There are times in my life where I simply have to shake my head and take it on faith that my senses are not deceiving me. That what is actually happening is actually happening. Take this trick for example. Here he is tied to my St. Andrews cross; bound, hooded and whimpering. As I apply another clothes pin to a particularly delicate area I can feel him twitch, hear his breathing become more ragged. I know I have him right where I want him; where he has spent all week wanting to be. That's the part that has me shaking my head. That this is my job....well that and the fact that I own a St. Andrews cross. All of it really. If you had told me five years ago that this is where I'd be today I would have laughed in your face.
I was going to become an attorney. I enjoyed school, I had the drive and dedication it took to do well. More than well, I was fucking great. Now don't get me wrong. This isn't some sob story about my fall from grace. You're not meant to feel sorry for me. There's no overarching moral message. "Stay in school kids! Or you may find yourself sexually empowered and making a living helping others explore their darker needs." I mean that sort of fits except that I'm not ashamed, remorseful or regretful. I am not the victim here; I'm also not the one with clips on his junk, not that there's anything wrong with that.
"Miss?"
"That's not how you address me worm."
"Mis....stress?"
"Almost there. Try putting it all together now."
"Mistress?"
"Yes darling?"
"May I have some water.
"No."
Now where was I? Oh yes, I was sharing with you part of the path that led me to today. I was also adding another clothes pin, and giving this poor bastard a sip of water. Staying hydrated is as important to me as keeping him in his place. Yes I realize that I told him no, that doesn't make it real...unless of course I decide it does.
Law school had me deep in her womb. Between writing papers, attending lectures and having heated debates at the local pub with my friends I had very little free time. My apartment was a mess, my fridge empty and my stove as clean as it was the day I moved in. Thank god for microwaves. Sure I get that nutritionally they're not great, but who gives a fuck as to the nutritional value of Ramen noodles? I sure as shit didn't. Note that in the breakdown of my time use I didn't mention employment. So yeah, I was broke as fuck; up to my ass in debt and no end in sight.
Enter Julie; all glorious five feet six inches of her, right into the aforementioned pub. I was passionately debating the evils of production farming, the problem with corporations running the world, the end of oil looming or some other really important global injustice. I really don't recall because that's the effect Julie has on you. Everything melts away, becomes somehow lesser. I guess that's normal when you're in the presence of true greatness.
I didn't know her yet, but I sure hoped I would. I don't consider myself a dyke but I'm sure as hell not straight either. Though with Julie I don't think it would matter straight or not. Gender sort of becomes irrelevant when sex on two legs decides to seduce you. Wow, I'm getting way ahead of myself.
So there I was with my friends, blah blah blah. Door opens, goddess walks in, I notice, jaw drops, panties get wet. That was pretty much the cascade of events. Starting from the bottom up: well polished Doc Martins, eighteen hole, lead to milky smooth thighs peeking out from under a charcoal grey pinstriped pleated skirt. A pyramid studded belt (two row) cuts a swath diagonally from hip bone to thigh. Tucked under it a white button up, though with the number of buttons done up you could hardly call it that. Sleeves rolled up, tits pushed up and out, warrior stance. Framing that magnificent rack straight long black hair. Could this get better? Yes it can. Librarian glasses frame piercing blue eyes. Luscious red lips frame pearly white teeth which hide a very talented but yet to be discovered yummy pink tongue. I've saved the best for last; a black velvet choker carrying a brass wire heart holding an oval white opal with a peal suspended beneath it wrapped around her slender neck. My heart races just thinking about it.
She just stands there surveying the scene, taking it all in. I see more than a few heads turn towards her. Our eyes lock, time stretches out for eternity. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. I look down and away, she smiles that half smile I love so much. You've probably seen it on the cat shortly after it consumed your canary. I look up just in time to watch her confidently march up to the bar. Before I realize what's happening she turns towards me with her smoldering bedroom eyes. Again I am lost in them, adrift in a sea of chemistry and need. Again I break eye contact; my ears burning, my body on fire.
My friends have noticed that I've stopped talking. I can vaguely hear "Earth to Sam; come back to us girl!" through the blood pounding in my ears. I give my head a shake, take a long pull on my dry cider and fail completely at playing it cool.
"Now where was I?"
"Before of after you clocked on to that hottie over there?"
"I don't know what you're talking about"
"Do you know her or is this your coming out party?"
"Fuck you guys and no I don't." Though I'd sure like to, I think to myself. I launch back into my debate on whatever pressing oppression had been captivating both myself and my audience while doing my best to process all that had just happened. This certainly wasn't my first crush nor my first girl-crush but it was the most intense crush I had ever felt. I wasn't sure what to do about it. I really wanted to see where this could lead but I've never been the pickup artist. I've been more the sit there, look pretty and not say no artist. I was way out of my depth.
A couple of ciders and several boisterous debates later I was back in my groove. Not to say that I had forgotten Julie; that's a lot like trying to forget seeing an eclipse. I had managed to push it to the back of my mind and successfully regained my composure. I mean hey, if I'm not going to try and make a move it's not going to happen. I don't even know if she's into girls and I'm sure she's not single, no one moving and looking like that could be single. It's best to just enjoy the excitement; hang on to the memory and not dwell on the impossible. That's exactly what I was telling myself as I excused myself from my friends and made my way to the ladies room. Ciders move through me quick. I've heard it's the same for everyone else but it seems it's either quicker with me or I have an abnormally small bladder because I am forever heading to the ladies room while at the pub.
I was washing my hands and applying lip gloss when the world stopped. In the mirror next to me I see her; Julie.
... to be continued ...
For part two click here
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